


For Love

by RedStarFiction



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-06
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-05-12 05:25:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5654068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedStarFiction/pseuds/RedStarFiction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Imagining a conversation between Murtagh and Jamie before the wedding when Murtagh realises his God-Son is in love with the Sassenach.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Murtagh scowled at his god-son and jabbed the logs of the camp-fire unnecessarily hard.  
“Dougal has na’ business makin’ ye wed the Sassenach.”  
Jamie shrugged a small smile on his lips  
“I dinna mind.”  
“Ye cock doesna mind! If ye heid had a say in the matter ye might feel different, stupid damn idea that it is!”  
Murtagh grumbled, his scowl deepening as Jamie laughed  
“I should clout ye for talkin’ about my future wife that way.”  
“I didna say a thing about the lass. It’s ye who needs a boot in the arse for bein’ sae foolish.”  
Jamie stood and turned to stand before his god-father side on, eyes narrowing mockingly.  
“If yon wee legs can reach it, go ahead.”  
Murtagh’s eyes never left Jamie’s as his fist whipped out, quick as lightning and struck him a blow just above his knee making him yelp and buckle his leg slightly, lowering the object previously in question enough for Murtagh to stand and deliver a well-placed kick.  
Jamie’s incredulous laugh broke the tension which had been building between them and both men sat down in better humour.   
“All I mean to say is that if ye dinna wish to wed the lass, no one will force ye.”  
“If I didna wish to wed her, I would ha’ said so.”  
Murtagh snorted in amusement  
“Aye, that is most likely true.”  
They sat in silence for a moment, each man lost in his thoughts. Murtagh watched the boy out of the corner of his eye, he looked so very like Ellen in the firelight that it made the breath catch in his throat.  
The colour of his hair was hers exactly. As was the little smile that tugged at the corner of his mouth, although the mouth itself was more Fraser than Mackenzie … Still he was Ellen’s boy alright, he even had that glow about him that she had when … Murtagh jerked suddenly and nearly slipped off the log he was sat on.  
“Easy man! Are ye …”  
Jamie’s eyes flared wide with surprise as his god-father lunged forward and wrapped his fists in the front of Jamie’s shirt, dragging him forward until they were on eye level.  
“Ye wee fool! Ye’re in love wi’ her, aren’t ye?”  
“Who? Claire?”  
“Aye Claire! Who else!”  
Murtagh snapped, giving Jamie a small shake  
“Answer me!”  
Jamie folded his own hands around Murtagh’s and tried to detach him from his shirt front but Murtagh only shook him again and Jamie gave up.   
“Aye. As it happens, and no’ that it’s any o’ ye business, but I am.”  
Murtagh released him as suddenly as he had seized him and sat back on the ground, ashen faced  
“Jamie … laddie … ye canna marry her.”  
“What the devil is wrong wi’ ye? Why can I no’ marry her?”  
Jamie smoothed his shirt down and glowered at Murtagh, irritation turning into genuine anger  
“Because she doesna love ye back.”  
Jamie bit his lip, hunching his shoulders defensively.   
“She’s in mourning for her husband, ken?”  
Murtagh shook his head and Jamie saw tears in his eyes, shining bright in the fire light.  
“Jamie, hear me now lad. Hear me as clear as if God himself were speakin’ to ye. Claire doesna love ye. At best she is fond of ye and at worst, she is scairt o’ ye.”  
Jamie’s brow furrowed in consternation   
“Scairt o’ me? I …”  
“LISTEN TO ME! That woman does not *love* ye and if ye marry her it will kill ye slowly.”  
Murtagh was gazing at him with such intent it made Jamie him squirm a little. There was passion and fury in the depths of his dark eyes now that Jamie had never seen before.   
“Ye are young, and stubborn as a mule’s uncle. But I am no sayin’ this to challenge ye. I have my own experience, ken?”  
“Who was she?”  
Jamie asked quietly and Murtagh shook his head fiercely   
“It doesna matter who she was. I loved her and she … she loved another.”  
He paused looking at Jamie to make sure the boy was paying attention.  
“I wouldna wish that fate on my worst enemy lad, and certainly no’ on ye. Please James, dinna marry her.”  
Jamie spread his hands on his legs and gestured helplessly to Murtagh.  
“I appreciate ye concern, and maybe what ye say is true and she doesna love me yet, but I have said I’ll marry her and I will.”  
“James …”  
“Claire is no’ like other lassies, she is stronger, prouder… whatever she feels for me, she will let me ken it herself, aye?”  
“What if she never loves ye back? Unrequited love is a painful thing laddie and ye have no hope o’ findin’ happiness wi’ another if ye are already wed. Ye are chainin’ yesel’ to a nettle branch!”  
Jamie grinned at his God-father and nodded  
“Maybe I am, but I want nothin’ more than to be stung.”  
Murtagh made a disgusted sound and spat into the flames.  
“It will break ye heart and it will be no more her fault than it is the clouds fault that they obscure the sun.”  
Jamie closed his eyes striving for patience with his companion’s gloomy outlook.  
“I ha’ ne’er felt like this before. I canna just walk away because I am frightened o’ what may be. Nor can I abandon Claire to Randall.”  
“There are other’s eligible that could wed her.”  
Murtagh said tersely, waving in the direction of ‘the others’ a little way away.  
“Who? Angus? Or Rupert?”  
The contempt in Jamie’s voice riled Murtagh and he turned to glare at Jamie  
“Those men are ye kin, they deserve ye respect and ye fealty …”  
“They dinna deserve my Sassenach though!”  
Jamie pinched his lips shut tight, he had not really even allowed himself to mentally think of Claire as his, let alone speak the words out-loud. She was not his, not yet. Not until she willed it. He cleared his throat.  
“What I mean is that they are … no’ gentlemen. They wouldna treat her right.”  
Murtagh pursed his own lips but made no reply. He knew Jamie was right about that but Claire was not his chief concern, Jamie was.  
“Aye weel, maybe they wouldna but she doesna help hersel’. The lass doesna ken her place.”  
Jamie laughed at that and beamed at Murtagh  
“Weel neither do I, so we’ll suit each other fine!”  
Murtagh’s shoulders slumped in defeat and he nodded.  
“Aye, weel I canna stop ye and I’ve said my piece but promise me one thing?”  
Jamie eyed him suspiciously, but nodded  
“Promise me that ye will speak to the lass before ye bed her. I ken ye are young and ye blood is hot but talk wi’ her first. The marriage isna legal until the deed is done and if there is no hope of kindly feelin’ toward ye, it would be kinder for both of ye to walk away.”   
Jamie placed a hand on the older man’s shoulder and smiled gently.  
“I will. It is good advice. Thank ye athair-baistidh.”  
Murtagh grunted and shrugged irritably  
“Aye weel. Good. Now I need a piss.”  
He said and stalked off toward the bushes away from his love-sick charge.  
“Love makes fools of all men, Murtagh!”  
Jamie called cheerfully and heard the answering snort   
“Aye, but it’s worse if a man is a fool to begin wi’!”


	2. Apple Blossom

Murtagh had made his excuses and slipped away from the rabble of men crowded around Jamie. He stepped out of the tavern and made his way up the hill near-by. The sun was only just beginning to set and the hills and valleys to the west were still bathed in a soft, pale light; whilst those to the east were steeped in the deep indigo of the night.  
He swigged from the bottle he had taken on his way out of the tavern, the beer was warm and sour and he would have preferred whiskey but it was the night before Jamie’s wedding day and the lad had no parents to watch him wed, Murtagh would not allow himself to be drunk nor hungover for it.   
“Ye should be here mo gradh.”  
He murmured softly and sipped at the bottle again. Coughing to clear his throat he looked around to check he was alone before kneeling in the damp earth and opening his sporran. He found what he was looking for almost immediately, his fingers finding the smooth, worn edges of the little leather pouch by reflex. He drew it out and touched it lightly to his forehead before bringing it to his lips.  
“Thu bhithidh a leithid ami riamh.”  
Murtagh whispered, as he always did, the small blessing to honour her, before kissing the leather and inhaling deeply, as if the smell of her might still be there even after all this time.   
“I need to speak wi’ ye Ellen. I ken ye ha’ better things to do than listen to me but if ye wouldna mind o’er much, I would ha’ a word now.”  
He kept his voice low, shivering a little as the dawn mist swirled around him.   
“Ye will ken the lad is gettin’ married, aye? To a Sassenach widow who may or may no’ be a spy for the crown!”  
He broke off scowling at the little pouch.  
“I dinna mean to make ye fret. She’s a bonnie lass to look at and a decent healer by all accounts, although she is no’ verra refined in her manners nor speech, she is bold at least...”   
Murtagh smiled slightly to himself at the thought of Claire swearing like a fiend bandaging Jamie’s arm.  
“What I need from ye Ellen is a wee bit o’ guidance. The woman, Claire, I dinna ken her or her kin. I dinna ken how she thinks or what she feels but yon wee lad loves her. He told me so himself,”  
Murtagh clutched the pouch a little tighter and opened his eyes.  
“I need to ken what ye would ha’ me do. I canna stop him marryin’ her, save weddin’ her mysel’ or some such nonsense, but …”  
He clenched his jaw and exhaled heavily through his nose  
“But I fear that she willna love him back no’ the way he deserves and I wouldna wish such pain on anyone, least of all Jamie. What can I do? What would ye do?”  
The breeze moved through his hair softly and for a moment Murtagh was back at Leoch as a young lad, showing off in the garden and dancing the ghille callum between two sticks as Ellen sang and clapped the beat for him. She had reached out, still smiling at him, and brushed a fallen apple blossom from his hair and his boyish want had become a flame of true love the second her fingers landed upon him.   
Murtagh smiled at the memory and nodded to himself.  
“Aye, what is done canna be undone and I ken that all too weel but marryin’ her?”  
*What better reason to marry than for love?*  
The words formed so clearly in his mind it made him shudder but Murtagh had asked for her help and he did not begrudge it.   
“So ye gi’ ye blessin’ then? And … Brian?”  
A ray of sunlight burst through the darkening clouds and Murtagh scowled at it.  
“I’m inclined to say tha’ the weather is unpredictable and it is no’ ye husband’s theatrical enthusiasm.”  
Murtagh muttered dryly and huffed, air puffing out his cheeks.  
“I’ll tell him ye’d both approve and I’ll watch o’er them both for ye. I dinna ken why Dougal has allowed this, Randall or no, but I dinna trust it.”  
“MURTAGH!”  
He heard Jamie call and straightened hurriedly just as the lad popped into view  
“There ye are! Come on – Come and have a drink!”  
Jamie’s cheeks were flushed with happiness and the effects of good whiskey and Murtagh couldn’t help but smile at him.  
“Aye, sorry lad, lead the way.”  
Jamie wrapped an affectionate arm around Murtagh’s shoulders and grinned drunkenly at him  
“I’m marryin’ the woman o’ my dreams in the morning’ Murtagh.”  
He hiccoughed, laughing and punching his god-father’s arm.  
“Sae ye are and a fine state ye’ll be in if ye dinna slow down wi’ the drink.”  
“Och! Aye! Aye… tha’s true I should slow doon a wee bit.”  
Jamie frowned in consternation and nodded to himself, his accent broadening with the drink.  
They began to make their way back down the hill in the twilight, Murtagh supporting Jamie a fair bit to keep him from falling arse-over-head.   
“She’s sae beautiful, is she no?”  
“Aye, verra bonnie.”  
“I dinna think I’ve ever seen eyes like hers.”  
“mmphhmm.”  
Murtagh grunted and Jamie sighed blissfully.  
“I do love her ye ken?”  
“I ken.”  
“Do ye really think she willna love me back?”  
Jamie stopped walking and looked at his god-father, eyes bright and innocent as they had been when he was a wean.  
“If an auld man like me loves ye, I am sure a bonnie lass like yon Claire willna be able to help herself.”  
He said softly and Jamie gave him a smile that warmed him to the core.  
“I hope she loves me.”  
“So do I laddie.”  
He murmured and touched his fingers to the small pouch in his sporran, visualising the lock of auburn hair and dried wee apple blossom within it and praying with all his might that Claire might open her heart to Jamie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thu bhithidh a leithid ami riamh = Your equal will never be amongst us again. A Gaelic blessing to honour the dead
> 
> ghille callum = Scottish Sword Dance
> 
> Thank you for reading.


	3. Listening

As the drink flowed the talk between the men turned from witty banter to slurring profanities and finally came to rest on a strange mix of wisdom, smut and warning.  
“Ye treat a wife in much the same way as ye do ye bairns when she’s disobedient but with the one exception…”  
Angus leaned forward, his face an inch from Jamie’s, bloodshot eyes open wide in warning  
“When she has her courses ye dinna want to try her or she’s like to slit ye throat.”  
“Aye! It’s true lad. My Mam was meek as a lamb wi’ my Da and his word to her wa’ law. But once a month she would turn vicious as a soaked cat. He tried to leather her for it once an’ she stabbed him in the leg wi’ a knitting needle.”  
Willie added, nodding sagely.  
Jamie grinned and nodded to them both as Angus finally sat back in his seat, satisfied that Jamie was well warned.  
“I’m obliged to ye for ye counsel but I dinna think I’ve much hope a Claire bein’ meek at any time o’ the month.”  
“True. Verra true.”  
Ned nodded and laughed as if struck by a sudden thought   
“She doesna mince words nor suffer fools.”  
“She’ll no suffer Jamie long then!”  
Rupert bellowed to thunderous laughter as Jamie pretended to lunge for him.  
“My recollection is that ye Mam was a woman of similar temperament.”  
Dougal smiled and Murtagh scowled at him  
“Ye dinna remember ye sister sae well then. Ellen, God rest her soul, was mild and gentle. She didna swear and argue wi’ men.”  
Jamie grinned at him and shook his head  
“Aye she did. I learnt my first profanity from Mam.”  
“Ye ne’er did?!”  
Murtagh’s eyebrows shot up and a delighted smile lit his face. He knew full well that Ellen was not mild but this was a revelation to him.  
“Aye, I canna remember exactly what Da did to upset her so but I must ha’ been four or five an’ they were quarrelling and all of a sudden Mam rounded on him something fierce and roared ‘Pog ma mahon!’ weel I can tell ye, Jenny and I used that as a sort of mantra for weeks after!”  
Murtagh laughed until tears streamed down his face. The thought of Ellen telling her husband to kiss her arse! Och! It pleased him more than it should but he didn’t care.  
“Da was so shocked he didna say a word, just walked out of the kitchen and went to see to the horses.”  
Jamie chuckled and sighed happily.  
“If Claire speaks to me sae fiercely I willna mind at all.”  
“Aye ye will,”  
Murtagh smiled, patting Jamie’s knee  
“But it willna change her so ye’ll learn.”  
Jamie sat up a little straighter and cleared his throat  
“Aye but … I want her to respect me as a wife should.”  
“Then ye need to roger her as a husband should!”  
Angus grinned, thrusting his hips at Jamie and letting his tongue loll out of the side of his mouth. Jamie’s face flooded with colour and he buried his nose in his drink as Ned pounded him on the back.  
“Ye need to earn that respect Jamie! Women like a man who can gi’ it to them long, hard and vigorous!”  
He leered and winked elaborately. Jamie choked on his beer at the thought of Ned in such a state and sprayed it down his shirt.  
“Och! Away wi’ ye man!”  
“It’s true! Ye need to make sure her feet dinna touch the floor!”  
Rupert chimed in and Angus threw himself across the table, scattering glasses, legs spread wide and arse up.  
“Hard and fast Jamie lad!”  
He hollered, Rupert standing behind him giving a faux demonstration.  
Jamie looked desperately at Murtagh who shrugged and frowned at the two men.  
“I dinna think I ever met a woman who like it verra much like that. I think the best thing ye can do is to listen to her. Women can be verra vocal on the matter if the mood takes them.”  
“Whores ye mean?”  
“Weel, aye but a whore is still a woman no? Just be quick about ye business and let her sort it out.”  
Murtagh waved a hand to signify the entire act of love was a messy and only vaguely enjoyable business and Jamie felt his stomach flutter at the thought of Claire wanting him out of the way as quickly as possible.  
“I will listen to her but as for the … ah …”  
“RUTTING!”  
Ned howled and Jamie stood up  
“I’m goin to the privy. Ye’re all animals!”  
Their laughter followed him outside and he was glad when the door swung shut and he was alone in the cold air with his thoughts.  
He didn’t care for much of what they told him but Murtagh was almost certainly right about listening to Claire. It was perhaps the one way he might avoid embarrassing himself and if Claire was a widow she might have certain expectations …  
Jamie swallowed hard and pushed the thought from his mind. He would cross that bridge when he came to it.


	4. Some sins cannot be helped.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A daft look at Jamie's struggles the night before his wedding! I could not remember exactly where he spends that night so I have take liberties here but please indulge me in my smut and nonsense! I'm feeling silly today! :-D

“Claire. Cl-aire.”  
Jamie lay in the darkness testing the word on his lips. He had called her Sassenach for the most part up to now but once they were married, she might prefer that he call her by her proper name and he would like to be able to say it in such a way as to convey some sense of how he saw her. ‘Sassenach’ was teasing and friendly but ‘Claire’ … ‘Claire’ should be a love letter to her each time he said it.  
Besides in the throes of passion he could hardly cry out ‘Sassenach!’ could he! Jamie felt his face heat up at the thought of Claire, bent over the end of the bed, her lovely arse up in the air and imagined how it would feel pressed to his belly…   
“Gu Leoir!”   
He whispered to himself and moved his hand, pressing both palms flat to the mattress. As a lad, when he was trying to stop impure thoughts, he would either recite passages from the bible or concentrate on small details of his room; cracks he had not seen before in the ceiling, how many floor boards were visible from the bed to the door, things like that.  
Now, lying drunk in a bed that smelt vaguely of its last occupants and the activities they had engaged in, with his shirt stood up like a ghostly tent against the length of his cock and the sounds of the barmaids downstairs laughing raucously and occasionally shrieking, Jamie found that bible verses were the furthest thing from his mind and he couldn’t concentrate for long enough to tell one cracked bit of plaster from another.   
Thoughts of wild curly hair and whisky eyes filled his mind. The sound of her voice as she cursed him for not keeping still as she tended to his arm and her shuddering breaths as he held her on his lap at Leoch filled his ears. Jamie squeezed his legs shut against the memory of her arse wedged between his thighs on the ride to Leoch and his chest prickled at the memory of her head thumping against him as they trotted through the night.  
Holy God! Would she really be his wife by this time tomorrow? His to touch and speak to at will? Jamie felt his chest constrict with longing and gasped lightly. The thought of tracing his fingers across the delicate bridge of her nose thrilled him almost as much as the thought of coupling with her!   
He had not yet decided if he would speak to her of love. That would need to be considered against her reaction to him. Murtagh had said that the lass might be scared and whilst the thought pained Jamie, he did acknowledge the likelihood of it. Had he been able to take his time, woo her and court her and maybe propose to her properly … but he had not. Dougal had given him an opportunity and it was the only one he was ever likely to get for if he did not marry the lass … Claire … then one of the other men surely would.  
Jamie clenched a fist full of bed clothes and rolled angrily onto his belly at the very thought of it. The chill in the room reached his bare arse and made the smattering of red-gold hair across his cheeks stand on end. Jamie wondered absently if his future wife would mind that he had a hairy backside.  
*She might choose to slap the hair off it …*  
Jamie’s face flamed with a new intensity and he hastily rolled back over. There would be none of that! He didn’t know where the thought had come from but it was obscene and daft. He would be master in the bedroom and outside of it. Obviously he wouldn’t force himself onto Claire, that would be … terrible, but he wouldn’t be meek either! He knew well enough that he was to take her from behind, that much was a given and the rest, if there was much else to it, he would find along the way.   
“Will ye finish chokin’ ye wee snake and get some damn sleep laddie?”  
Murtagh’s voice, thick with drink but distinctly awake came from the bed across the room and Jamie shot up as though someone had stuck a pin in him.  
“I’m no’ doin’ any such thing!”  
“Which is why it’s takin’ sae long! Ye willna sleep until ye’ve …”  
“Murtagh! Shut up!”  
Jamie hissed and heard the older man snort but fall back into blessed silence beyond that. After a moment though he spoke again,  
“It may no’ be a bad idea to do such a thing before ye weddin’ night lad. It will help ye keep ye heid and no’ terrify the lass wi’ enthusiasm.”  
Jamie wished that the ground would swallow him but could see the sense in it.  
“My mother and father trusted ye to steer me in the way o’ God, no push me toward sin ye auld bastard!”  
“Aye weel, they dinna ha’ to try and sleep beside ye the night before ye wed. If they did then they would most likely understand it.”  
Jamie fought down the urge to throttle his godfather with considerable difficulty and reined in his temper.  
“They wouldna ha’ been too cheap to buy their own room! I should ha’ let ye sleep in the barn!”  
“Maybe, but I am ye chaperone an’ I’m no movin’ now, save to kick ye in the arse if those sheets rustle again.”  
Jamie could hear the smile in his Godfather’s voice and knew that Murtagh was probably having the most fun he had in ages by teasing Jamie so mercilessly, but that didn’t mean he had to stand for it!  
“Fine! I’ll find somewhere else to sleep!”  
“Dinna go to the barn, the sheep are in and the last thing ye need is to be confronted wi’ a red-wooled lamb in a few weeks’ time!”  
Murtagh called and Jamie heard the wheezing, throaty laugh that followed through the roaring of embarrassment in his ears.   
He stalked down the stairs and out into the cool night air, breathing in deep lungfuls and letting the dark and quiet sooth his mind. He hadn’t picked up boots, nor his kilt and the breeze stirred the linen shirt against his thighs gently. All at once he imagined Claire, kneeling over him in the heather, peeling the fabric up his legs to find what she wanted and he barely made it round the side of the barn in time. Three or four quick jerks and it was over. Jamie tipped his head back, panting and waiting for his heart rate to slow down.   
A low rumbling ‘baa’ came from the other side of the wood and Jamie’s lip trembled at the thought of a blue eyed sheep with fiery red wool. His shoulders started to shake and before he knew it he was crouched beside the building, doubled over in breathless snorting laughter, tears streaming down his cheeks and only able to wipe them away with his right hand.   
“Oh God! Claire, my Sassenach, ye’re marryin’ a buffoon!”  
He whispered to himself once he was sufficiently recovered. Annoyingly Murtagh had been right and now that he was spent, he felt completely and utterly exhausted.  
“Damn ye for a know it all on matters o’ filth and vagrancy!”   
He grinned into the darkness, his heart and head considerably lightened.


	5. Je Suis Prest.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jamie preparing for the wedding. The question of Brian's ring and where it came from is one that is much debated. I always sort of thought Jamie had it when he went to France to find Ian and fight with him after Fort William, but for purposes of this story I have gone for a more romantic and equally plausible version :)   
> Thank you.

Jamie woke just after dawn. The embers of excitement that he had put to bed the night before were glowing hot and fierce in his heart and he all but leapt from the small bed. He hoped Murtagh had found a decent Fraser plaid for him to wear. If not Jamie had his stag brooch to try and smarten himself up a little and he crossed to the window to inspect it in the pale grey light of the early morning. It was a beautiful piece of craftsmanship but he wished he had taken more time over the polishing he had given it at Leoch. He set it on the broad window sill and stepped back with his hands on his hips looking at the large silver brooch and biting his lower lip, his fingers tapping his sides impatiently. If Murtagh could not find him the plaid he would have to present himself as he was but it would hardly do Claire justice to marry him in a grubby shirt and a tartan that was as dull as the worn leather on his boots.  
A stray thread caught his eye and he plucked it off, twirling it between his fingers. This was no life for a lady like Claire. He would have to do something about the way they were living now that they were to be wed. She was his responsibility or would be soon ... How many hours before they had to be at the church? Too many but then at the same time not enough! Jamie was desperate to see Claire in the bonnie dress Ned had found and to take his vows with her and perhaps, if she was not too adverse to it, kiss her when the priest gave blessing to do so but at the same time he was absolutely terrified. What if she was disgusted by him? He had nothing to offer but the protection of his body and that was covered in scars and hardly a bonnie thing! What would he do if he looked into those beautiful golden eyes and saw fear or worse, hate. Fear he could assuage in time but hate … there was little to be done about hate except try to earn his way from it by loving her with all he had.  
The door swung open and Murtagh bustled in, his arms laden with food, a package wrapped in burlap and two mugs of ale in each hand.  
“Good, ye’re up.”  
“Aye.”  
Jamie took the drinks from him and put them on the table as Murtagh dumped the burlap on the bed and handed Jamie a plate of bread, cheese and meat.  
“Eat first then we’ll get ye sorted.”  
“I dinna think I can manage a bite. My guts are floppin' like a fish out o' water.”  
“I ken, but food will help settle ye stomach.”  
Murtagh offered Jamie a rare gentle smile that reached all the way to his eyes and tucked into his own portion. Jamie took a tentative bite and realised just how ravenous he was. Once they had eaten Murtagh picked up the sack and emptied its contents onto the bed.  
"Right ye'll be wanting some o' this no doubt..."  
Jamie peered over his shoulder and swallowed heavily.   
There was a clean, folded Fraser plaid, a dress shirt, it's white linen bright against the homespun bedding, a comb for his hair, a razor, clean woollen stockings and a tub of polish for his boots.  
"Where did ye..."   
"Dinna fash about that. The shirt should fit ye fine and ... Oh ..."   
Murtagh fished around in his sporran and produced something that Jamie had not seen in a long time.  
"Da's ring! I thought it lost! How did ye come by it?"   
"I stole it."   
Murtagh shrugged and then grinned at the bafflement on Jamie's face.   
"Dougal had it, he said as he meant to gi' it to ye when ye werena afflicted wi' a price on ye head. I dinna ken what logical thread he sees to the two things so I thought it best to just get it back to ye before it could be misplaced."  
Jamie clapped a hand on his Godfather's shoulder and hung his head, too overcome to speak.   
"Do ye need anything else?"  
Murtagh asked gruffly and Jamie shook his head  
"No mo charaid, ye ha' given me everything I need and more."    
“Mmmpphmm.”  
Murtagh grunted and jerked his head in the direction of the door.  
“I've asked for a tub o' water and a bit o' soap to be sent up to ye.”  
“Thank ye Murtagh, truly. Thank ye for everything.”  
Jamie folded the ring into his fist and stroked a finger down the plaid, already feeling more himself than he had in the months since his return to Scotland.  
Once the water arrived, Murtagh left to seek out beer and ensure Claire was being properly attended to. Jamie would have liked to have someone club his hair properly but he didn’t like to ask Murtagh and supposed that with her own wild curls, Claire might not mind too much if a few of his flew astray.  
He scrubbed his fingernails, elbows and knees almost raw to get the dirt of the road completely off and felt that he had done a decent enough job, though a couple of grass stains on his kneecaps had proven more stubborn than soap and water would allow for. Jamie glanced over his shoulder to ensure the door was properly shut and scooped a handful of suds into the golden mass of tight curls around his manhood, combing them through with his fingers before rinsing the soap out. He half wondered if he should neaten them a little but quickly dismissed the notion as daft and stepped out of the tub.  
The razor Murtagh had found had seen better days but his Godfather had clearly given it a quick sharpen for him and as the light of the morning filtered in through the window, Jamie shaved his face as neatly as he could. There was a knock at the door and after quickly wrapping himself in a blanket from the bed, Jamie bade the caller enter.  
“Ye managed well enough.”  
Murtagh said gruffly as Jamie frowned and ran his fingers up his throat, finding a few more rough patches that the razor had missed.  
“Thank ye but I need a mirror I canna…”  
Jamie spoke out of the side of his mouth as he craned his neck to try and catch a tell-tale gleam of red hair in the light.  
“Ye canna do anythin’ if ye slit ye throat, gi’ it here.”  
Murtagh took the razor from Jamie and deftly rinsed it in the tub water before pushing Jamie's jaw up lightly and getting rid of the last of the stubble.  
“Thanks.”  
Jamie wiped his freshly shaved chin on the blanket and turned to his clothes.  
“I'll do ye boots.”  
Murtagh sat down on the floor and proceeded to buff Jamie's boots with the single-minded ferocity of a berserker.  
“Do ye mean to skelp the leather right off them?”  
Jamie teased, wrapping the kilt around his hips and securing it with his sword belt.  
Murtagh didn't look up from his work but Jamie saw a small smile alight in the centre of his beard.  
Jamie eased the shirt over his head carefully, his hands only trembled a little which was better than he had expected as the time to leave edged nearer. As he collected his brooch from the window he noticed that the sun was peeping out from between the clouds and he hoped it would hold, it would be nice for Claire to have sunshine on her wedding day.  
“Right. How do I look?”  
He asked, turning to face his godfather, holding himself unnaturally upright and puffing his chest out slightly self-consciously. Murtagh cocked his head to the side and studied Jamie for a moment  
“Ye look verra fine, laddie. Verra fine indeed. Mistress Beauchamp will consider herself most fortunate to become Mrs James Fraser.”  
“Mrs Claire Fraser.”  
Jamie smiled shyly. It thrilled him to think of her as either but he understood feeling completely deprived of being ones old self, understood it more fully now that he once again stood in Fraser plaid and somewhat restored. He would not deny Claire her identity.  
“Aye, Mrs Claire Fraser.””  
Murtagh nodded and stood up, handing Jamie his considerably smarter looking boots.  
“Come on then, one last dram as a free man!”  
Jamie grinned and ducked his head as he pulled them on.  
“If I'm to be a prisoner, I think I may be the most willing prisoner that ever lived.”  
Murtagh rolled his eyes but a small warmth filled his heart  
“I ken, laddie. I ken. Je Suis Prest, aye?”  
"Oh, aye!"  
Jamie beamed, love lightening his eyes to a sweet, soft blue and excitement adding just a little spring to his step as he lead the way.


	6. Journey to the Kirk.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look at Jamie and Claire's journey to the church for their wedding - I have followed the lines of the book for this, not the TV show, so show watchers might find the sequence a bit odd.   
> This continues from Jamie's perspective.  
> The lines of Dougal's and Jamie's speech with * next to them are directly from Outlander for authenticity of the scene. 
> 
> Thank you for reading :) xx

He could hear Dougal’s bluster from down the stairwell. The man was building himself up to a belly ache about something but Jamie was too preoccupied with other thoughts to care about what it might be. Claire, his bride, was waiting for him at the top of the same stairs and he could hardly contain himself for the butterflies in his stomach.  
He pictured her, stood by the window, the sunlight playing in her hair and her hands folded demurely in front of her, a shy smile on her lips as she curtsied to greet him …

“Ah Dhia!”

He gasped and placed his left hand over his heart, willing himself to stillness, praying he wouldn’t make a complete fool of himself and collapse in a heap at the lass’ feet. He had asked Murtagh to wait outside, hoping to speak with Claire and give her a wee gift in private but clearly he would not be able to do so, Dougal was unlikely to leave them alone until the ceremony was complete.  
Jamie saw how his uncle looked at Claire and he could not help wondering when they would come to blows over her, for surely as the fox stalks the hen, they would. The thought of striking his uncle did not sit easy with Jamie but Claire was to be his and his alone, he would not suffer another man to look upon her with lust without suffering the consequences.  
Shaking himself of such thoughts Jamie took a deep breath and murmured “Je Suis Prest” once more before taking the remaining stairs two at a time and pushing the door to Claire’s room open without further hesitation.

His eyes had been trained toward the window but he found only Angus leaning against the sill, picking at his back teeth with a grubby finger. For a moment Jamie was in utter confusion and almost wondered if he maybe had missed his footing on the stairs and clomped his head; then he shifted his gaze toward the bed and time stood still.  
Claire was staring at him through bloodshot eyes, her skin paler than usual and a thin film of sweat on her brow and upper lip. She had dark smudges under her eyes and Jamie knew if he took a deep breath through his nose he would smell the whisky on her. Yet she was also the most breathtakingly beautiful creature he had ever seen. Her hair had been pinned so that it delicately framed her face and the dress Ned had procured suited her more perfectly than Jamie had dared to hope. 

“Are ye mad, man,” *  
Dougal’s voice cut through Jamie’s stupor,   
“What if somesone’s to see ye?”*

Jamie tore his eyes briefly from Claire and answered his uncle, affirming Dougal’s suspicions that Jamie understood his agreement to this wedding all too well.  
*Aye, and may the knowledge choke ye, ye auld bastard*   
Jamie thought with savage humour before turning his attention back to Claire. She was looking at him with eyes that begged for help and he could see she was suffering something fierce.

He wanted to tell her it would all be over soon, that she only had to stand alone a little while more and then she need never do so again for he would be there with her, always.  
His eyes roamed down the gentle swell of her lower lip, over her pointed wee chin and down her bare throat, a small smile catching his lips. He had never seen skin like it, so pale and luminous almost as bright as … Jamie jerked slightly, he had nearly forgotten. 

Reaching into his sporran, he produced the pearls he had carried with him for today. The necklace was light and cool in his palm and he fastened it gently around Claire’s neck, allowing his fingers to linger momentarily on her skin as their eyes met in gentle understanding. 

“They’re only Scotch pearls, but they look bonnie on ye.”*

Jamie smiled, resisting the urge to kiss her temple.

“Those were ye mother’s pearls!”*

Dougal growled behind him but Jamie didn’t bother to look at the man

“Aye, and now they’re my wife’s.”*

He gave Claire a warm smile and felt a thrill of happiness when she returned it, her eyelids lowering bashfully before flickering open again, meeting his gaze with certainty.

“Shall we go?”

“Aye we shall!”

Dougal snapped, knowing full well Jamie had not meant the question for him. Claire inclined her head slightly and Jamie straightened, holding out his hand to her.

“My lady...”

She placed her hand in his, her fingers soft and light against his massive, calloused palm. Jamie licked his lower lip and felt sure that his heart would burst with joy. Without breaking their touch, he guided her past Dougal and the men and led the way, carefully down the stairs and into the light of day.   
*  
Claire rode between him and Dougal on the way to the chapel. Dougal feared she might bolt but Jamie knew she wouldn’t. He grinned to himself thinking that with the hangover his poor lass had, it was unlikely that she would willingly do more than a light canter, even if the devil himself were after her.   
The fresh air did seem to have revived her slightly over the course of the journey though and the wind had brought a little colour to her cheeks. Jamie was pleased to see that her eyes looked clearer too, more focussed. He didn’t blame her for needing a drink, he had felt the need for a dram quite desperately himself. Jamie grinned, if he didn’t think she would snatch the bottle from his hand and drain it, he would have brought some out from his saddlebag.

He had not expected Claire to be hungover on their wedding day and he knew that he should be annoyed; Murtagh had looked fair disgusted with her, but Jamie couldn’t help but feel almost … proud! He had not known many women but they ones he had known would never have dreamed of getting blind drunk the night before they were to be wed, no matter the circumstances. Even Jenny, who didn’t give much of a fig for what people thought of her, wouldn’t have done it! She was a rare woman indeed, his Sassenach. 

Jamie straightened his back and rode as handsomely as he could, facing forward determinedly so that Claire could watch him if she wanted to. He felt a twinge of disappointment after a few minutes realising that she was barely aware of him beside her and racked his brain for something to say. 

“Oh my God!”

Claire suddenly jerked on her horse’s reins and stared ahead of her at the chapel they were approaching. Jamie saw Dougal glance in her direction and hastily lifted a hand to stop the older man saying anything.

“What is it Claire?”

His voice was calm and level and Claire turned her eyes toward him, they were huge with terror and disbelief and for a moment Jamie wondered if she would become hysterical. He nudged his mount closer to hers and gently took hold of her reins.

“The chapel … it’s … my husband … We …”

Claire shook her head and Jamie nodded in understanding. It was only natural that the lass think of her first husband on her way to wed the second and Jamie pushed away the jealousy he felt about sharing her thoughts with another with only a little difficulty.

“Many chapels look alike, I’m sorry if this is too similar for ye liking Claire, truly I am. But there isna another and we must wed here. Do ye understand me, Sassenach?”

Jamie could see the pulse fluttering in her throat and wished more than anything to kiss his way along the sweet curve below it.

“Can ye ride on?”

He asked quietly and was pleased to see Claire nod her head and straighten her spine slightly. 

“Ye can do it Claire, I ken ye can.”

Jamie whispered, but his voice was snatched away on the wind before the words reached her. He released his grip on the reins and pulled back to allow her space to breathe and move as she felt able, but remained close enough to offer whatever support she might need on the last wee leg of the journey to the kirk.  
*


	7. The Wedding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OK guys, so this was probably the longest I have spent on a piece for quite a while. I have tried to blend the core pieces from the book with my own imaginings on extra pieces that may have passed between Jamie and Claire and the others on the day. This is still from Jamie's perspective and his thoughts and feelings.  
> I would also like to say that I did not look at Outlander whilst writing this chapter, because of that there may be some discrepancies in how I have written events and how they actually occur, but I felt that was important too because this is only my take on it and cannot truly compare to DG's beautiful wedding scene.  
> Thank you so much for reading and please do let me know what you think, good or bad, as this has been a nerve racking chapter to write.  
> Thank you,  
> Han xxx

Jamie walked ahead of Claire up the hill toward the kirk, he would have liked to walk behind her, to see her framed against the pale stone of the chapel, but she needed a guide not another onlooker. She had placed her trust in him, fighting back her panic over the church and her memories of her first husband, letting him lead her onwards and he would not desert her.

She had seemed reluctant to leave the horses at the bottom of the hill and Jamie was not sure exactly why, but he had gently led Claire’s mount to the hay with her and tied the beast with the others whilst murmuring softly in Gaelic to both of them. He knew no other language which calmed skittish nerves as well as the Ghaidhlig

His own excitement was now tempered with growing awareness of Claire’s feelings. Though she had tried to conceal her distress after her outburst, it was still written plainly across her face. Jamie knew that marrying him was Claire’s most logical choice, it was part of the reason he had offered to wed her. However he was coming to understand exactly what it was that he had forced upon her with his suggestion. She still grieved for another man and Jamie was pushing his way into her life, a very solid wedge between her past and her future. 

Of course his intentions were honourable and the choice sensible but Jamie wondered if perhaps the end did not justify the means when it came to the human heart and he was beginning to suspect that Murtagh had been right about the lass’ feelings toward him.

At the top of the hill Jamie turned toward her and grinned

“Alright, Sassenach?”

“Peachy!”

She snapped a glimmer of fire flashing in her eyes and Jamie sucked in his breath sharply. Beneath his kilt, his body stirred in willing anticipation of letting that wee angry flame scorch him. Claire mistook his breath for offence and waved a hand in apology.  
“I’m sorry, I’m fine really.”  
She looked toward the church and Jamie saw the small shudder run through her. 

“I dinna ken how else ye propose to get away from Jack Randall or out from under the Mackenzie thumb if ye dinna wed me, but if ye ha’ a plan I’ll gladly hear ye out and help if I can.”

Jamie’s heart constricted as she looked him over clearly appraising his offer and considering it.

“I don’t have any plans.”

She said finally and the knot that had begun to tighten in the pit of Jamie’s belly relaxed slightly.

“Thank you for helping me by the way...with my horse…”

“Och! It was no bother Sassenach. Any time ye need help wi’ a mount or a hard ride…”  
Jamie snapped his mouth shut as colour flooded his face. Claire cocked an eyebrow at him and smiled slightly, the tension between them sagging under the weight of Jamie’s embarrassment and Claire’s soundless laughter.

“I’ll bear it in mind.” 

She said dryly. Jamie had no idea what made him lose control of his tongue so shockingly, he hadn’t been so foolish in front of a lass since Annalise asked him a question one supper and he answered with a mouthful of wine and dribbled half of it onto his chest, the choked and snorted the other half through his nose onto the table in front of her.

“Please forgive me I didna mean any offence to ye Claire.”

Before she could answer Dougal strode forward and all but dragged her toward the church doors

“In we go!”

He looked over his shoulder and smirked at Jamie but Claire, struck by a sudden thought yanked her arm from Dougal’s grip and whirled back to face him.

“Wait … I said bloody WAIT!”

She snapped as Dougal tried to take her arm again.

“I can’t marry you, I don’t even know your real name!”

Jamie tried not to smile at the almost comical way her mouth gaped and bowed low, keeping his eyes locked with hers

“It’s Fraser. James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser.”

“Claire Elizabeth Beauchamp.”

She gulped and stuck her hand out awkwardly, nearly poking him in the eye as he straightened.

“The pleasure is all mine, Claire.”

Jamie took her hand and shook it, grinning as she matched the strength of his squeeze and boldly pumped his arm up and down.

“If you two are now properly introduced…”

Dougal jerked Claire a little too roughly to his side and it was only Murtagh’s hand on Jamie’s arm that kept him still.   
As soon as they were in the out of sight, Jamie closed his eyes and clenched his fists hard at his sides. Had he really just insulted his bride with a careless innuendo and allowed her to be snatched away by his uncle? And that along with expecting her to marry him without even telling her the name she was taking?! Of course she wouldn’t recognise the Fraser plaid! How could she? Poor lass! This might be something to save her life rather than a romantic ceremony but still! Of all the blundering, thoughtless actions he could take …

“Easy laddie.”

Murtagh murmured and Jamie cracked an eye open to look down at his Godfather.

“I’m a fool.”

“Sometimes, but mostly ye are alright. Now yer uncle, there is an auld fool.”

Jamie snorted and Murtagh clapped a hand on his back

“He’ll test ye Jamie, but dinna let him away wi’ too much. He’s no’ the sort to respect anything but force.”

“I canna risk a fight wi’ him Murtagh, he’s the Chieftan o’ Clan Mackenzie and my mother’s brother …”

“And an ignorant cretin for all that. Tread lightly bhalaich, but dinna fear to tread at all.”

Jamie nodded, letting the tension leave his shoulders. Dougal was not a problem he could solve in a day and he needed to focus on Claire now. 

“Are ye sure ye wish to do this then?”  
Murtagh nodded toward the church and furrowed his considerable brows  
“Ye ken she was drunk, aye?”

Jamie grinned and nodded  
“Och aye, she’s a raging hang over, poor wee thing!”

“Dinna be leading on wi’ all that softness! She represents ye as a man if ye wed her and ye canna be lettin’…”

Jamie held up a hand and shook his head tersely, willing Murtagh to silence

“Dinna fash so! Ye’re like an auld woman!”

“Eh? Ye …”

Murtagh began but Jamie was already striding towards the church doors, drawn to Claire like a moth to a flame. 

“Right then.”  
Murtagh muttered and crossed himself hastily before hurrying after his impetuous godson.  
*  
The priest was clearly nervous and was flicking back and forth through the pages of his bible with trembling fingers and Jamie found himself fixing the man with a stare that promised a swift kick in the arse if he didn’t get on with it. Once the good Father had acknowledged that look and hastily turned his fumbling attentions to the matter at hand, Jamie was free to look at his bride and look he did, for he could hardly believe his luck.

*God, How did ye make a woman sae beautiful?*

He thought, unable to tear his gaze from her. Everything she did entranced him, from the gentle blinking of her amber eyes to the slow bobbing of her throat as she repeated the words the priest told her to say. Jamie found himself tracing the sweet curve of her jaw with his eyes and memorising each little detail of her face and actions, storing them in a place within his heart that he had not known of before Claire came into his life.  
Jamie said his own vows in a clear, strong voice, hoping that in doing so he might lend Claire some of his own certainty and offer some encouragement.

After the English vows, the priest invited them to kiss. Jamie felt his bottom lip quiver and his palms slick with sweat as he leant down toward his wife. Ah Dhia! His Wife! He closed his eyes, too afraid to look lest Claire cringe away from him. Her mouth was soft and warm and his knees went to jelly as the faint tang of whisky passed between them. He expected Claire to pull away quickly but she pressed into him, her body melting into his, her tongue probing against his lips, seeking. Jamie was vaguely aware of shrieks and applause behind them and smiled against her.   
Jamie had never known a kiss to feel like that, but what stuck with him was the sweet wee smile on Claire’s face as they parted. For the first time that day she looked happy and flushed with colour not drawn by wind or painted with whisky, she was simply radiant. 

Jamie was still smiling at her as Dougal stepped forward with the dirk and in the second before the knife was pressed to his flesh Jamie realised that no one had told Claire of this custom. The blade stung but he didn’t flinch, didn’t even shift his gaze to the blood welling at the surface of his skin. All his care was for her, all his devotion rested on her and when she shied from the blade with a small grunt of shock, it pained him more than steel ever could. Jamie had known he loved her before that moment but it was the first time he had understood exactly what it meant to love her and it both thrilled and terrified him in equal measure.

Claire stared at the fabric in Dougal’s hands as their wrists were bound together. Jamie pressed the tips of his fingers into the chilled flesh of her arm hoping to reassure her that it was almost done. Her eyes, slightly unfocused, met his and Jamie stared into her for all he was worth, grounding her to him, offering her the little sanctuary he could.

“Just repeat the words as I say them lass.”

He murmured and then raising his voice, recited the blood vow in Gaelic. Claire followed as best she could, her pronunciation clumsy and at times completely wrong, but her voice held firm.  
Jamie watched her mouth form the words with all the wonderment of a child seeing the ocean for the first time, the enormity of the promise crashing over him like waves on the shore. 

Their wrists were unbound and blotted and they left the church together, stepping out into the sunlight as husband and wife. Jamie held Claire’s right arm in the crook of his left and accepted the congratulations of the men as they made their way back toward the horses. 

Jamie felt her weight shift before Claire even realised she was going down. As she fainted, he slipped down to the ground alongside her, cradling her in his arms and positioning her head gently in his lap.

“Ha’ ye killed her already Jamie?”

Angus shouted from further up the path and was met with several guffaws of laughter. Jamie’s own lip quirked but he didn’t answer. Claire’s eyelid fluttered and she looked up at him slowly regaining her awareness.

“That bad is it?”

“I’m sorry I…”

“Hush. Ye just had a wee faint, and little wonder wi’ the heat in the kirk and the shock o’ the vows.”

Claire shuddered against him and Jamie rounded his shoulders, instinctively hunching further over her body.

“That was rather unexpected!”

“Aye, I’m sorry no one thought to warn ye.”

“It’s alright.”  
Claire smiled at him again and began to shift herself up. Jamie hated to relinquish his hold on her but carefully helped her to her feet and stepped back.

“I am sorry Jamie, I think it’s only that I haven’t really eaten for a couple of days and I did have rather a lot to drink last night…”

Jamie heard Murtagh snort behind him and shot him a look over his shoulder

“I didna ken ye were hungry.”

Jamie patted his jacket as though hoping to find a bannock concealed in the fabric, his brow creased in worry. He didn’t want to fail his first test as a husband, to provide food for his wife!

“There’ll be food in a saddlebag for sure Sassenach. I’ll see to it that it’s offered to ye.”  
Jamie promised, concern still written across his features. 

“I’ve a loaf and some cheese; you’re welcome to as much of it as ye please Mrs Fraser.”  
Ned piped up. Jamie saw Claire startle slightly at the name but she nodded and thanked Ned and smoothly resumed her place at Jamie’s side.   
Gently, Jamie threaded his fingers through hers

“Just in case ye fall, aye?”  
He smiled.

“Just in case.”  
Claire nodded, squeezing his fingers lightly in gratitude.

It was not the start Jamie would have liked to give them, but his heart rose high in his chest with joy that they had even this, for it was something and he knew well enough that that many great things had been built on a foundation of less.


End file.
